To the pain
by badculture
Summary: Ursa will do whatever it takes to protect her son, as many times as it takes.


_(A/N): Warning! This is not cute, it is extremely violent.  _

_Summary: Ursa will do whatever it takes, as many times as it takes. _

_Disclaimer: Characters & setting are based on Nick's Avatar; the title is from a line in "The Princess Bride". _

**To the Pain**

Even as he lay still, exhausted and struggling to breathe around his broken ribs, Fire Lord Ozai did not doubt that he would be victorious.

_That's my boy, _he thought, lifting his head as far as he could to gaze up at his son. Zuko regarded him in silence, but Ozai could see the ever-present glaze of confusion clouding the boy's eyes, holding him back. They both knew that Zuko couldn't strike him down. Not like this.

It didn't matter that his son wasn't alone, either. The children alongside him stood still, watching the Fire Prince to see what he would do, the atmosphere around them saturated with palpable indecision. Even the Avatar—especially the Avatar—were looking to his son to make the hard decision. They were all waiting for Zuko to tell them what to do with the man who had ruined his face, a man they could not, under any circumstances, allow to live, a human man lying broken and defenceless at their feet. The choice was obvious, and they still couldn't do it.

But Ozai could. One day the circumstances would be reversed, and when that time came, he would not hesitate to strike the final blow. That was why he knew, even in defeat, that he was going to win.

"I can't do it," Zuko said, finally, "I can't kill him."

"We'll figure something out," said the Avatar, placing a hand on Zuko's shoulder in a laughable show of solidarity. Ozai couldn't fight the smile that twisted his face painfully, pulling at an open wound across his cheek. Even as Zuko unwittingly condemned them all to death, they embraced him, loved him, his boy, his compassionate, foolish little boy.

"Zuko," a woman's voice rippled through the silent room, powerful and assured.

The children turned away from him, all except one, a tall boy with deceptively dull, blue eyes. His eyes remained fixed on the Fire Lord, hand clamped tightly around the hilt of his sword. He knew it wasn't over.

"I'll take care of this, you go on to the main hall. Your uncle is waiting for you," The voice continued, steady, reassuring. Ozai strained to lift his head higher, to look at her, but he couldn't manage it.

Zuko cast one last look back over his shoulder, to the once great man lying prostrate at his heels in a puddle of his own blood.

"Alright," he said, moving away. Ozai heard his footsteps click, click, click against the tiled floor as he crossed the chamber, slow and hesitant.

"Wait," Zuko's heavy footsteps paused at the command, "may I borrow one of your swords?"

"…you aren't going to kill him, are you?" Even as his son said the words, Ozai heard the sound of steel blades scraping against steel, and knew that Zuko had drawn his swords before hearing the answer.

"No. I'm not going to kill him."

After a moment, the sound of Zuko's footsteps resumed, growing quieter and quieter as they drew away.

The woman came to stand in his place, and the sight of her stole the already laboured breath from Ozai's lungs. She was dressed in Fire Nation clothing, a simple tunic with a white lotus embroidered over her heart, and short sleeves that exposed her arms. Once lily white, they were now browned by the sun, lean with wiry muscle. Her hair, the lustrous raven locks he remembered with such fondness, was now cropped short, brittle and threaded with grey. His—their son's sword was in one of her hands, resting loosely by her side.

"Ursa," the name slipped out of him in the form of a reverent sigh. She didn't acknowledge him, instead turning towards the Avatar as his companions.

"You should go too," she said in that unfamiliar, hard voice that he had heard before, "Hakoda is with him. Even you, Sokka, that's an order," the blue eyed boy hesitated at first, but gave in when one of the girls in the group tugged on his shirt, pulling him away. Ozai was struck by the sudden, foolish desire to call them back, plead that they stay. Ursa looked down at him, expression impassive.

"I see you've mutilated our son," she said, simply.

Ozai stayed silent. He didn't really believe that she would kill him. Ursa crouched down to look into her husband's face, and held his eyes, unwavering.

"I only ever asked you for one thing," she said.

Ozai remembered.

"Are you going to kill me?" he asked her, surprising himself.

"No." she told him, placing her hand on the back of his head and pushing his face down onto the floor. "Probably not."

Ozai struggled against her, but he had lost so much blood that the effort made dark spots appear in front of his eyes. Her hand lifted, and a different weight replaced it. He couldn't be sure, but he thought she might be using her knee to pin his head down. He felt her hand again, this time on his lower arm, weighing it down.

It occurred to him then that Ursa had murdered a Fire Lord before.

"I'm going to make sure you never hurt anyone—never _touch_ anyone ever again."

The shriek escaped him before he knew that he was afraid, before he even registered the feeling of metal slicing through his wrist and digging into the bone. The blade cut into him a second time with a slick crunch, again and again until he heard the metallic crack of the edge of the broadsword meeting with the floor. The weight lifted from his head and he turned it to see, and there it was, his hand lying alone on the floor, and the torn, red flesh of his severed wrist. He screamed again as Ursa's hand covered the wound and burned into him, searing his wound closed.

He writhed uselessly on the floor, his voice rushing out of him in gasps and curses. His other hand caught Ursa's ankle, but she pulled it away gently, setting it down on the floor and readying Zuko's sword again. He screamed again, before the blade even made contact with his skin, a wordless, hopeless plea. He knew that no one would come, even if they heard him.

* * *

_(A/N): Yeah. Not my usual style. What do you think?_

_ Originally I was going to have Zuko do this, but then Ursa jumped in all Molly Weasley style and the matter was settled. She is a fire bender in this because I haven't found any proof that she isn't one. _

_On a side note: I'm totally convinced that Ursa is the leader of the Order of the White Lotus, and that she's going to be the next Fire Lord. Or Fire Lady, whatever floats your boat. In any case I was in world religion, and my prof said the White Lotus Society recognized a woman, Wang Cong'er, as one of their military leaders. Something clicked, and there it was. _

_FINALLY: I just got on livejournal, and I'd love to be friended. If anyone reading FIRESTARTER sees this, check out my new LJ for some bonus content. (Sort of a prologue to the prologue of Firestarter). Just take out the spaces and go! _

http:// badculture.livejournal .com/


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